D'Angela
by Losavech
Summary: I am utterly hopeless. I no longer have any control over my heart. It has been stolen from me in the most delightful way. It was taken away from me by a kiss that was pure and kind and tainted and stained all at the same time, but I loved it and desired for more. And now it's gone forever and I can't reclaim it. Itacest AU in Lovino's perspective
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So I've been sending Char this AU idea that was utterly emotional and heartbreaking ended up being a chapter, and I figured why not post it? It's going to continue for awhile and so far I'm proud of what I've managed to come up with. I hope you guys enjoy it too.**

**-Sarah**

* * *

I am utterly hopeless.

I no longer have any control over my heart. It has been stolen from me in the most delightful way. It was taken away from me by a kiss that was pure and kind and tainted and stained all at the same time, but I loved it and desired for more.

But more of those kisses made my lips burn and I winced when that burning feeling soon ignited my insides and became a wrathful fire; my heart had surely melted.

I was and am putty in my lover's hands.

My grandfather used to tell me that there are two ways to say "I love you" in Italian where one is meant for family and friends and the other is meant to say to a lover.

But when it comes to my brother, I'd rather say the latter.

Where does one even begin?

* * *

It's odd how we became so close with our personalities being so different. Mom and dad would say that we are the complements of each other, but if we're complements, then why am I so bad at making him happy?

I try my best every day, but it ends up with him crying and me apologizing for making him cry, so then we both end up crying and it just never turns out the way I want it to go. I usually feel like an idiot for even trying and push him away again, but he doesn't ever listen to me so I find him hugging me from behind, whispering an apology even when he's not the one at fault.

The fault is mine and yet I allow him to take it, make him believe it's his own, and let him live on with the unnecessary guilt for a fight that should have never have happened. I really am an idiot.

But Feliciano makes me feel stupid. He makes me cry when there's nothing to cry over, makes me smile at the stupidest things one could imagine, makes my heart clench inside my chest like it's about to shatter into millions of pieces, and makes me feel these horrible feelings of jealousy and possession and desire and any emotion ever felt that relates to wanting to keep someone all to yourself.

I want him all to myself, but wish I could push him away and hide these feelings at the same time so I don't have to end up looking in the bathroom mirror again, wondering why there are hot tears running down my cheeks and dripping from my chin. It makes me feel weak when I do that.

With him, though, I feel stronger than ever before like I can take control of all these adolescent emotions without having a breakdown first. I feel my heart beating for him–to stay alive for him so I can see that smile one last time before I'm broken once more.

I love him.

No, I hate him.

No, wait, I envy him.

No, I desire him.

No –no, I want him to be there by my side forever.

…No… I love him.

He's my brother and I'm his too, but I can't see him as that.

I hide from him because I don't want him to see me blushing when he gives me a kiss, not because I find him annoying and don't want to be around him like most older brothers.

I hug him because he's warm and cuddly and his hugs make me feel safe, not because I'm forced to by our parents because we got into a fight and need to "make up."

I love him because he's beautiful and truly just an angel that has fallen from heaven, though I always wonder if I've tainted this pure angel somehow. Then again, maybe I'm the one that's tainted and impure, like the ocean—wishy-washy and contaminated with piles of trash thanks to other people not knowing where to put that Goddamn trash so they just leave it all on my shoulders—

How does Feliciano even deal with me…? What about me is there to like? Well, besides my good looks, of course. But there I go again being narcissistic when I really just have a low self-esteem that I try to boost with being conceited and egotistic.

I'm hopeless. I don't understand where Feliciano finds the good in me. I yell at him, make him cry, and am so mean to him, but he always gives me that second chance to make him happy. My second chances end up as failures and I guess I'm a failure too.

"Feli, did you get all your art stuff for your class?"

I'm sitting in the driver's seat of my car since I have to take my brother to his art classes today. He has classes every Tuesday night at a really nice art studio on the other side of town, and since our parents are too busy to take him and grandpa's too old to drive, I've been given the responsibility to drive him there and back home. I don't mind, to be honest, because he always shows me the art he's done in his classes and seeing his eyes light up excitedly makes me happy.

But at the moment, we're running a little late and if he doesn't have everything ready I swear I'm going to–

"I think I did… uh… oh!" He jumps out of the passenger seat and sprints back inside, returning with damp hair due to the rainy weather and one pencil that apparently he couldn't live without. But I'm not going to say anything because it'll just provoke another fight and there's no need for that right now. Well, really, when is there ever a need for an argument with him?

Feliciano settles in his seat and gives me the okay to start driving, so I start the car and pull out of the soaked driveway, trying to see through the buckets of rain that are pouring on the windshield. I have to hurry though if I want to get him to class on time. His classes mean the world to him and I can't let him down. I've already let him down in so many ways.

"I think this time I'll draw a portrait of you, Lovi, because you have such pretty green eyes that would look beautiful on canvas. Maybe I'll do a full body painting of you! I know your body shape pretty well so—"

I peek out of the corner of my eye and see that he's blushing beet red because he realized what he said was embarrassing. He just admitted that he knows what I look like naked (and he does) because we just see each other naked so often.

Okay, maybe we do, but when it's said out loud it's a little flustering and even I can feel my cheeks glowing pink. His embarrassment is adorable, but mine? Not so much.

"Does that mean you want to use me as a model for one of your paintings? You're going to have to pay me a good price to do that. Add in more if you want me to be a naked model too. I'm sure everyone in your class would love to see that," I say sarcastically.

"I-I wouldn't want anyone else to see you naked," he admits, "but I do want to use you as a model, maybe. You'd be a really good model, and not just for paintings or sketches, but for clothes and fashion and that kind of modelling. You're very beautiful… like an angel who has lost its wings."

I sputter and my lips try to form words, but it's practically impossible to do so now. I'm flustered beyond belief because Feliciano is way too nice with his compliments. I wish I could say something like "you're more beautiful than me" but that sounds cheesy and very romantic comedy-ish so I pretend to act like I still can't speak. I'm not sure if I can now.

He looks at me and I know he's just waiting for my reaction so he can smile at me and make my heart melt all over again as he usually does, but I can't give him that satisfaction if it means letting him see my red cheeks. Since my car doesn't have any heating, I can at least get away with it by saying that it's just cold because of the rain and that's why my cheeks burn.

And because of this damned rain, I still can't see well. The windshield wipers don't work very well and it worries me that we're going to be late for his art class if I don't go faster. It's still another few miles down the road and with traffic and the lights, we might be ten minutes late and that would take away precious painting time from him.

"Listen," I start, "I will be your model for a painting if you let me keep it. That's how you can pay me. I'll have an original Feliciano Vargas painting all for myself and you'll have more practice for your art. You can never have too much practice, right?"

"Deal. And one of these days will you pose naked for me? I'll paint you like… like whatever Rose says to Jack in the Titanic. You know what I'm talking about?"

"You mean 'Paint me like one of your French girls'?" I ask, amused with his reference.

To be honest, I wouldn't mind being painted nude by him because it's him and I know he would want to keep it after painting it. I would act like I don't want him to because what if someone else finds it and he would promise me that he'll hide it when people come over, so I'll let him keep it if he gives me a kiss and more.

"Yes! That's what I meant. You would have to do that pose too, just for me, and I'd be happy to pay you with kisses," he teases, chuckling and snickering to himself like a little kid that got away with stealing cookies from the cookie jar. He's able to read my mind with ease, and sometimes it scares me. I wish I could do the reverse.

"Does that mean you'll give me a kiss right now?"

"But you're driving." He pouts.

"I can still drive while kissing. I've done it before."

"With who? You've never kissed me while you were driving." There's jealousy dripping from his voice and I can tell I just messed up again with no way to backtrack my way out of this oncoming fight.

"You're not the only one I've kissed, Feli," I tell him.

"I know that… you don't have to tell me though. Ignorance is bliss."

"Then you must be pretty ignorant." Fuck, what am I even saying? Who is controlling my body and making me say these horrible things? Just a minute ago we were flirting and smiling with each other and now I'm making a mess. Make it stop, someone, please, make my mouth stop spewing idiotic nonsense.

My prayers have been answered. The passenger side of my car has suddenly been pummelled into and I can hear Feliciano screaming. The airbags pop out of the dashboard, though it doesn't really protect me from bashing my head against the door's window. Excruciating pain hits me like a truck and I'm pretty sure my car was just hit by one too.

I pass out and all I can see is darkness.

It's cold and damp and lonely and I just want to go home.

* * *

A few minutes later (I think) I wake up. Everything in my vision is cracked and broken, yet the rain is erasing everything from my sight. I can feel the drops of water running down my forehead, or maybe it's blood from when I hit my head against the glass—I quite honestly don't know.

Pain resides in my temple and sides from the impact and I wish that I could pass out to make the pain go away, but the ringing in my ears keep me awake. My body hurts and I want to vanish from this predicament and return to my bed where it's warm and safe and Feliciano can hold me—

_Feliciano!_

Oh God, I hadn't even thought about what happened to him and if he was okay. He must have taken the worst bearing of the crash since the other vehicle hit the passenger side. He hasn't even made one sound since the crash and I wonder if he passed out from the pain completely like I did for only a few peaceful minutes. I envy him.

No, I shouldn't. I shouldn't think such unkind thoughts about the most important person in my life. I must take into account the possibilities of the crash's consequences.

Meaning what if he's dead? Please, God, please don't let my brother die. Don't let the person that has given me the will to smile. Let me see his bright eyes that shine at me so I may know that he is fine.

But I can't see him at all. There are either raindrops or tears or blood in my eyes that make it difficult to look at the damage—I can barely even see the airbag in front of me.

I close my eyes and wait for the ambulance to take me away from this mess and return me to my bed—I mean our bed; my and Feliciano's bed to be exact.

It's our bed and every night when we go to sleep, he wraps his arms around me and buries his face in my back because I face away from him. I'm embarrassed when I have my arms wound around him too because then I can feel his breath against my neck and it always makes me blush and my heart starts to pound and I pray that he can't feel it, but I know he does so I face away from him every night.

Most nights are of me hiding my face in my pillow so he doesn't see me smiling like an idiot or so I don't turn around and find myself transfixed on his features; especially his eyelashes and lips. He has such long eyelashes for a boy, but they complement the tinges of gold in his eyes. I wish I could see them right now.

But right now I am opening my eyes now. The ringing in ears has stopped, but now I can hear the rain pouring through the broken windshield—I guess it wasn't that good of a shield since it was able to break so easily.

Thankfully there's nothing in my eyes either so I can see, though it's still a little fuzzy as is my head, but the ambulance will come soon and they'll take us to the hospital and heal these wounds. I've too many anyways and Feliciano is probably beaten up pretty bad.

I'm too tired to lift my head now, which must mean I've lost a lot of blood, and I think it's from the cut at my temple. I don't really know if there is a cut there, but I smell my own blood coated to my face, which must mean something on my head is bleeding.

I hope they come here soon. It hurts sitting here with a giant airbag slammed against my chest and I want to go home and take a shower. Feeling clean and warm would be nice and maybe I'll let Feli take a shower with me.

God, I really do hope he's okay. I can't move my head so I'm not able to see him either. Mom and dad are probably going to take my license away for a few months for getting in this crash, but not because they're mad at me because Feli will tell them it's not my fault, but because they would be too scared to let me drive again. What if it was another rainy day and another driver doesn't see where they're going? It means something worse can happen and I could end up dead.

Sirens start blaring from a distance and a few minutes later, the ambulance is here to make the pain go away. They open my door first and then Feliciano's before tearing us out of these uncomfortable seats and letting us rest on their stretchers. The paramedics are all over me, shouting out orders to each other and I think some aspects on my present condition.

I'm finally able to see him and it looks like he's awake. Good. It means he's alive and breathing and not hurt and I'll be able to hug him and tell him everything's okay once I see him again in the hospital.

But then again, there's something… off. His lips aren't moving and have lost all their color. Rain pours down and rolls across his forehead and cheeks, but the cold isn't making his cheeks or nose red at all like it usually does. He's completely colorless and resembles a mangled doll that has been tossed out in the rain.

His stretcher comes closer and I can see that there's no light in his eyes. There's no fear or pain or anything and suddenly my heart is jumping right out of my chest. Instinct moves my body and I sit up, shouting his name in a desperate attempt to get him to look at me and smile that reassuring smile that lets me know everything is okay, but he doesn't answer me at all.

It seems that the medics are trying to restart his heart, but after five failed attempts, they announce his time of death. I can feel myself dying as well as my voice begins to give out. My face feels wet as well, but I don't know if it's rain, blood, tears, medicine… it doesn't matter anymore. I don't care what it is anymore.

My brother is dead and it's my fault.

My lover is dead and the last thing I said to him was that he was ignorant.

Something else inside me is dead.

The morphine has taken away the pain in my side, but my heart feels like it's about to burst. I want to die. I want God to take me away with him. I'll kill myself if I have to. I'll find a scalpel or knife or something in the hospital and take away my life so I can join my brother in death.

And then I burst out laughing as though this is some giant prank that's being played on me, that Feliciano really isn't dead and I'm not actually going to the hospital to be treated on. That I've not gone completely insane.

I'm so sorry, Feliciano. I'm sorry.

I'll see you among the angels, so please, wait for me.

My head feels light and the morphine pulls me under. Everything is black again.

I hope I'm dead.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I actually had this chapter done a couple days ago because I'm pretty fast with typing these up at night. I really do hope you all enjoy this one too. I'm sorry if there are any tears along with it.**

* * *

At the hospital, the doctors tell me Feliciano most likely died from shock because of the sudden collision stilling his heart.

I only came out with a few injuries and a broken rib from the airbag, but his heart stilled from utter shock and never would beat again.

If that's the case, I'm surprised he didn't die when I told him that I was in love with him, because even then it seemed like he was never going to be able to move again.

He wouldn't talk to me for days because he was so embarrassed with my confession, which I could understand considering it was also embarrassing for myself to have fallen for my younger brother.

After plenty of time alone to himself, he came to my bed and snuck his way under the sheets just to hide himself in my back. That was one of the few times I turned around and faced him when we slept together in bed. He was just so warm and cuddly and I couldn't resist holding him and keeping him in my arms forever.

He was so precious when he was alive and he's still precious to me after his death.

Those arms that held me were my sanctuary when I needed shelter to hide my tears. His smile was my savior that guided me through happiness, but I took advantage of it.

Even then when he was hugging me and keeping me safe, I took advantage of his care and love for me.

"I love you too, Lovi," he had said against my skin, his breath brushing against my chest and giving me goosebumps.

At that moment, I did a million and one actions that it was hard to believe my heart managed through all that.

I cried because I had someone that shared mutual feelings for me and cared for me and would probably have sacrificed anything to just see me smile.

I laughed through the sobs because I was overjoyed and so, so happy and disgusted with myself for being this ecstatic about my brother being in love with me. I was the one who fell for him first. I was the disgusting one.

I became angered with myself for not having confessed my undying love for him earlier so we both might have been happier being together much sooner.

I felt a thousand emotions rush through me, but the most vivid one was penetrating deep in my heart; it was the deep affection held for my brother that finally made its breakthrough after years of being hidden; it was love.

"Like… in a lover type of way, right? Not just as a brother?" I had to ask. See, I was a nervous wreck and needed to be clear on what his feelings were. I didn't want to assume that it was that strong passion of wanting to keep him all to myself and never let anyone else ever have him or know what it's like to feel his blessed warmth. No, I didn't want to force myself on him.

But I didn't want my heart broken either.

That was when he kissed me for the first time and that kiss made me completely lose my mind. My heart melted and molded itself back together again as our lips stayed pressed together.

We stayed there for a few minutes with our lips pressed together before he pulled away from me and said, "Way more than just a brother. Nonno said that back in Italy there are two ways to say 'I love you', am I right?"

I nodded and he flashed a smile.

"Poi ti amo."

"_Then I love you."_

And that was it. That was where it all began and here is where it all ends.

I want to hear you say you love me one more time, Feliciano.

Just once would make me feel alive again.

Why couldn't I have been the one to die so you may live on and smile an fall in love with someone else as I watch you from heaven…

Are you watching me there right now?

Can you hear me…?

Why can't I hear you?

* * *

A year goes by unnoticed after his death.

It's like I'm Bella waiting for Edward to come back, depressed and unmoving for weeks on end. Only this predicament is worse. This time he's not coming back. He's already dead and gone, his body decaying and withering beneath the ground.

I wish I could feel his fingers against my cheek again, but they must be dry and cracked by now, no longer smooth yet worn from days of painting. I wish I could see his smile again, but all it is now is bone without the flesh and blood to give it emotion.

I've made it this far only because my parents had found the many suicide notes I had been writing for when the time came to end this life. They took away anything and everything they deemed as a weapon that I could have used to kill myself. They even locked all the drawers with knives in them just in case I ever happened to be shuffling through the knife drawer and decided to slice my wrists open and let myself bleed to death.

This means I have to wait longer to join Feliciano in heaven and continue dying a little more every day.

But it's weird. I see him all the time like he's still here, yet I know he's not. I saw his dead body and those dead eyes, so I know for a fact that he is still dead.

In the mornings, I'll be making myself a bowl of cereal and then mom and dad will come out and make their own breakfast. Feliciano makes his way for the table and sits down in his usual spot, waiting to be served his breakfast. When he realizes that he's not going to be served food, he wanders back off to my room and doesn't come out for hours.

At night I'll be fighting away nightmares of watching him die and he'll appear again, clutching me and burying his face in my back like he always did when he was alive. I can feel his warmth too—I can feel his heartbeat against my own, but I know it's not him, so I cry.

Sometimes he asks me what's wrong and I always answer with the same reply.

"You're dead, Feli."

He shrugs whenever I say that and goes right back to laying down behind me as I sob my heart out into the night. He's always gone by the time I wake up.

And though I know the real him will never come back, I treasure the times when his ghost does—when he hugs me and says he loves me and he'll never leave me.

The only problem with that is that he lies. He leaves me every morning with a cold bed and a tear-stained pillow to hold until one of our parents comes to wake me up.

The pain Feliciano left me with is fresh and still bleeding and his ghost always leaves a deeper cut, so the memory of his death will never fade away.

My injuries will never scar, and I like it that way.

I don't want those memories to leave me ever again. I want it to be like a year ago when he woke up next to me and kissed me awake, not like his ghost counterpart that lets me lay here shivering in the mornings. I enjoy the pain of my wounds because it reminds me of when he was alive.

I want to remember his being alive rather than his death, but my reoccurring nightmares make the smell of the rain on his death day fresh and alive in my mind.

The only thing not alive in my nightmares is him.

* * *

Our birthday passed a few months ago and I visited his grave at the cemetery. Now he's eighteen and I'm twenty, an exact two years ahead of him since our birthday fell on the same date.

I always thought it was funny that we were born two years apart from each other, but it's nice to celebrate it with him. We're both happy on our birthday.

Before heading to the cemetery, I stopped at the flower store to buy him some fresh flowers for his tombstone. I come every month to replace the old ones with new ones, namely daisies because those were his favorite flowers.

I never knew why since it represents death, but I had no need to question him and get a two-hour lecture on why they're so unique and beautiful and be given the entire history of the damn flower. Instead I just asked him what his favorite flower was and he told me—simple as that.

The clerk at the flower shop gave me a weird look before I left, but again, I don't know why. I don't like to question random people as to why the aura around me sends off weird signals because that's just awkward.

So I continued on to my beaten-up, old car stationed in the parking lot for the time being. My parents had forced me to save up the money to repair it, though it probably would have been cheaper to just buy a new car.

I was happier with it when I got the blood stains out.

The drive to the cemetery was only a few minutes down the road, so I was there in no time since I know the route like the back of my hand.

When I arrived, another funeral was going on on the other side of the field. They were just lowering the body as I made my way through the black iron gates that surrounded this place.

Cemeteries always have such a sad and unpleasant aura, but I guess there's nothing happy about visiting a dead person.

In my black suit and tie, I searched through the many tombstones of the dead until I finally found the name Feliciano etched into the stone. The flowers I had placed there a month before were dried out and edging between life and death, so I took them out and put them above Feliciano's resting place. The flowers could become part of the land again and nurture his dead body.

I liked the thought of him becoming one with his favorite flower. It made the circumstances seem a little better.

I sat down in front of his grave and set down the bouquet of daisies beside myself. This was our first birthday that I would have to spend alone with my dead brother, and on account of the many tears that were falling down my cheeks, I knew it was going to be the hardest part to deal with when it came to his being dead.

"Hey, Feli, I-I'm so happy to see you. You're finally a legal adult now. I'm proud of you. I never said that much, but I'm really proud of you. You've grown so much since we were little." I was surprised that I was even able to manage making out the words without taking in breaths between sobs. I wasn't sobbing, yet there were tears rolling down my face and neck and I could feel the hot water drip on the sleeves of my blazer.

"Happy birthday, Feliciano," I murmured to him, hoping he could hear me from wherever he rested in peace. "I-I blame myself for your death m-most of the time because I was the one who was driving the car. I a-am so s-sorry, Feliciano. I-I wish I could take back w-what I said to you right before y-you died, but I can't so I'm j-just so sorry that I don't know what t-to do."

Oh.

There came the sobs. There came the usual apologizes that would only be heard by the wind. Things just didn't change.

Even then I was still hopeless.

"I love you. I l-love you more than anyone i-in the world… and I'll a-always love you. I'm sorry I-I couldn't join you sooner. Mom and dad f-found my notes and keep a-a close eye on me now. They don't understand why I want to die."

Those sobs finally calmed down and I was able to speak sentences without stuttering. I just had to say I love him to make them go away.

"But I'll find you under the tree, napping in the shade with the wind rustling through your hair, and I'll hold your hand and fall asleep with you forever. So please keep waiting for me under tree and have a happy birthday… Ti amo." And I finally went silent.

The last of my tears fell on my soaked sleeve and I put the daisies on the ground in front of his grave before I left and went home.

My parents welcomed me at the door with wide smiles and a cake with twenty candles lit on it that said in icing, "Happy birthday, Lovino!" I could tell their smiles were forged and scripted by the sadness in their eyes due to the fact that they had to celebrate this birthday without my brother.

Little did they know that I had just cried my heart out in front of his grave, though I never see them even visit him.

Feliciano was sitting in his spot at the table, waving at me and singing along with our parents. For that one moment when I blew out the candles to the cake and they all clapped for me, I felt a little loved.

I was the center of attention, which was usually Feliciano's occupation since he loved to display his fantastic artwork to our parents when he finished a piece. Despite being proud, I envied him for managing to somehow always take the spotlight.

Deep down in my heart, I knew he only showed his art to them because it made them happy and proud to have such a talented son. He was always putting himself out there to make others happy, especially me.

My parents and I ate the cake and chatted some, so Feliciano wandered off again and disappeared because it wasn't like a ghost could be able to eat cake and converse with live people without scaring them half to death. I was used to his ghost, though, and wanted to follow him off to my room and stay with him there for the rest of the night.

"So when are you going to move out, twenty-year-old?" my dad teased, his green eyes silently laughing at me.

I only live with them because it's to save money for my college textbooks and classes. The college is nearby too so no need to pay an expensive dorm fee when I could just stay with them for another year or two until I save the money for my own place.

Actually, I've never really thought of living on my own because I always had Feliciano in mind. Even now as his ghost wanders through the house and follows me, I want to stay with him and keep his memory close to my heart where no one can reach.

No one else is allowed to see inside and see my wounds or feel my pain. It's going to be kept all locked in the safe that is my heart until I die.

"I'm still staying here until I get enough money to rent a place. It's better financially to stay here anyway and I know you two just adore me being with you all the time," I spat back at him.

He retaliates and nothing more between us is said. I was happy enough with that.

When the cake was finished, I left with a quiet thank you and quickly headed to my room. It was completely empty, and to be honest, I expected Feliciano to be sitting there on the bed with his arms wide open for me to hug him.

I was disappointed and sad for the rest of the night until he appeared behind me, and this was one of those times when I turned around and tucked his head under my chin. I could feel every strand of hair on his head and his fingers curling into my skin as he held me closer.

"Happy birthday, Lovi," he whispered against my neck. "Thank you for the daisies."

And that was all he said to me. I never got an "I love you" or an "I'm still here" and I more because of that. True, I was happy with him even being there to say happy birthday to me, but I'm still that selfish person that takes advantage of his kind words.

My life has been stuck at the stoplight, constantly seeing flashes of red that tell me to stop even though I have to hurry on. But what keeps me locked to the ground is Feliciano tugging me and holding me and not letting me move forward with time.

Because all I want to hear from him is "I love you" one last time, I won't allow myself to move forward.

I'll stay at the red stoplight forever until I hear him say it again.


	3. Chapter 3

I had another nightmare.

Feliciano was running from me and laughing while I chased him down endlessly through a maze with no exit or entrance. He would be in front of me, just a few mere inches away, and then disappear and I'd hear him chuckling to himself behind me from what seemed like miles away.

I pursued him fiercely with all my strength because I had to have him. I didn't understand why he was running away from me either, so I had to ask him why in the world he would be evading me.

But he was good at hiding and running away. For endless hours I continued on until my knees gave out and I swear it felt like my heels were bleeding from so much footwork. I heard him laugh again, but was too tired to venture further. I wished I had a blade to saw my feet off and relieve myself of the piercing pain.

Then as if it were magic, I found myself running again, Feliciano standing a few feet away from me before I just crashed into him and gave him all the hugs I could offer. The look in his eyes suggested love and I took it all in without even thinking twice.

When I leaned in to kiss him, there were bare teeth pressed against my lips and my eyes shot open. His body no longer held flesh, but the clothes adorned his skeleton hauntingly well.

I screamed and woke up.

The image of his body losing its essence and life, ultimately becoming nothing more than a poignant skeleton, will never leave my mind.

* * *

My parents sat me down at the table in the morning after that nightmare. So it turns out they actually are forcing me out of the house, which means that I have to find a new roommate to live with and leave all the memories Feliciano and I spent here. I grew up here and I'm a little wary about moving out.

But it isn't like I'm a twenty-year-old college student that can't take care of himself, because I definitely can when it comes down to it. I can cook pretty well anyway.

Feliciano always complimented me on my cooking.

The problem with moving out is my having to separate myself from Feliciano's ghost. I'm sure I'll be over here every few days to see how he's been doing and maybe feel his warmth again for a couple hours before I have to leave.

To be honest, I am terrified of having to leave him. I'm at a never-ending stop sign where I don't want to move forward because that means letting all the wounds heal into scars and eventually fade.

But I don't want that, as I've said before. I want to feel the warm blood of my cuts trickle down my skin and remind me why I won't move on with my life—why I don't want to move on with my life until those three words are said.

My parents give me a few newspaper ads for some other college students looking for a roommate, but obviously anyone willing to put an ad about needing a roommate is probably needy and also a serial killer. Yes, that is my conclusion when it comes down to it.

"There might be some pretty girls looking for a handsome roommate such as yourself, Lovino," my mom informs me. "Oh, but no sex until you're thirty. You wouldn't understand the meaning it has to a serious relationship until then."

Oh, mom, it's cute how you assume what I can and can't understand because of my age. And if only you knew that I happily took Feliciano's virginity without second thought.

I mentally slap myself for having such a crude (though blunt) mind. I indeed took his virginity and we had plenty of sexual interactions with each other, but that didn't mean I used him just for sex. Rather we strengthened our relationship by making love and revealing our most vulnerable selves in front of each other.

No, but seriously, let's have a quick chat about that amazing sex he and I had. Our bodies practically melted together with all the sweat, spit, and cum we exchanged throughout the process. His kisses ignited my lips on fire, which sent a raging storm of heat rolling through my limbs and it ended up in sweet, undeniable bliss.

And that's just the short summary. I'd be more than happy to go into detail but—

I wish we could do it again, but as always, I wish we could do so many more things together, but alas, I can't make love to a skeleton or dead body. That's not really my thing.

And so, annoyed with her answer, I decide to tease her with, "Don't worry, I'm plenty experienced with condoms. If I wasn't, you'd have seen at least twenty girls banging on the door to tell me they're pregnant. Your son too if he was a girl. I had fun with that one." Then I walk off and leave her with her mouth agape and an appalled expression painted between the lines of her forehead.

I grin to myself happily after entering my room. Feliciano's ghost is not there so I know that he didn't overhear that conversation, though he probably would have been blushing from ear to ear if he did. Then again, I don't really know if he's ever around when I'm talking to them because he mostly just shows up and then disappears until it's the next day. The process usually repeats itself every single day.

Hours later, I'm still grinning and happy with myself for that tease.

That's what she gets for kicking me out.

* * *

After a month of searching, they tell me I'll be moving in with my dad's cousin's friend's niece—whatever—I lost track at cousin. I'm to be moving in with her because she just moved out here and needs a roommate to help support with the bills.

They promise me that she's really pretty and funny and would be a great friend for me, yet I'm supposed to be living with her while we go to college, so it's pretty much like they're throwing me into a relationship.

…Are they honestly trying to set me up with this girl?

Pathetic, really. I don't need my parents to be a matchmaker for me, especially when it's a random stranger that's probably from the middle of nowhere and desperate and everything that I hate. I don't need her either.

But because I'm such a nice person and because my parents are packing up my things and putting them in a moving car, but for the most part it's because I'm nice.

"Mom, why do I have to live with this girl?" I ask exasperatedly as I watch her box up the things on my desk. To irritate her, I usually unpack my things so she has to start all over again, frustratingly enough.

I hate her the most. She never cried after Feliciano's death because she wanted to act as if she never even had another son. She didn't even blink at his funeral, though I sobbed for days on end and still do.

His funeral was pretty sad, I'll admit. A lot of his friends and our family came to it because, well, they had their goodbyes to say to the young man. He impacted a lot of people during his life with that bright smile of his that I fell in love with. They may have said their goodbyes to him and moved on, but I call for him and watch him stand still in time.

Every night I feel him against me and cry because he's not actually there and might even be all part of my imagination, but I never hear her say one word about him.

She has no heart.

"Because, dear," she begins, "I want you to grow up and be your own man. You're very handsome—just like your grandfather when he was a teenager—so why not meet a nice girl and live a little? With protection, of course, as I said before."

Her reminder of that certain conversation between us makes me grin like an idiot because that was the first time I ever saw that sort of disgusted expression on her face. She's usually calm and collected, but seeing her distraught is utter satisfaction.

"Fine." And that's the end of yet another delightful conversation between mother and son.

* * *

I end up being kicked out a week later now that all my stuff is packed and ready to go for the move. All of the boxes are already in the apartment according to my parents.

They really are kicking me out. I mean, I knew they were going to and all, but I didn't actually believe they were that serious about me moving out. I guess with one son gone, they want the other gone too.

I truly do hate both of them.

It's my time to say goodbye to this house and all its memories before I leave. I hope Feli will be able to come with me… and why wouldn't he be able to? I don't know if he's part of my imagination or truly a ghost, but can't he come with me?

In my room, Feliciano sits in the bare corner of the room, looking like a kicked puppy waiting for its owner to come to it again and show it all the love and compassion it truly deserves. He must know that I'll be moving soon with how he's staring at me expectantly.

"Mom and dad are kicking me out of the house. I'm really sorry. But will you come with me?"

Even if he's a ghost, he can still come with me and be there to hold me at night, can't he?

He gives me a nod for an answer, thank God. He can still be with me and at least have his arms wrapped around me at night, even though he never says he loves me, but that's okay now. Feliciano's coming to stay with me, so the wounds still won't heal.

I like it that way.

I hold my arms out for him and he immediately hugs me, even tucking his head under my chin as I usually did to him when we held each other on those rare nights. It makes me regret not doing this more with him when he was alive, but it's nice to feel some of his comforting warmth once more before I leave.

Later that day, I drive by myself to the apartment, which is thankfully close by to my college so I won't have to spend so much money on gas and get some exercise if I walk there. Maybe this new girl and I could walk there together and we could end up being friends.

And maybe I was being a dick before when I said I was only being nice to the girl by helping her. She might really be a sweetheart and we can just be friends.

But that's it. I won't give my heart to anyone else. I can't give away my heart anymore. Feliciano has it locked up and stored away in his coffin for the rest of eternity, so there it shall stay forever with him.

I don't need anyone else but him.

When I arrive inside, there's no one there besides boxes littering the floor and counters. I've never even been here before, so I decide to scope the place and see what my new home is like.

It's a pretty decent size and fairly updated and new from all the HGTV shows I can compare it with. The counters in the kitchen are granite and the cabinets are dark wood so that's nice.

My room is of decent size and has a window that overlooks the skyline of the city, another plus right there. I can tell it's my room because it has all my furniture already there thanks to my ever so lovable and affectionate parents.

I continue down towards my new roommate's own quarters and see her bed has already been placed against the wall and she has a desk on the other side of the room. Nothing's unpacked from what I can tell, and she doesn't have a mattress yet so I'm guessing she just moved in today or yesterday.

Overall, the place really is nice and a good start to be on my own for once. The downside of it is that there is only one bathroom in the place, which is going to be a strenuous predicament if this girl is one of those that spend hours in the morning just getting her hair done. God, I hope she isn't like that.

Now that I think about it, I wonder if she really is pretty like my parents had told me she was. I should give this whole living situation a second chance at least since my parents are definitely not going to let me move back in anytime soon.

I… maybe I should give myself a second chance? Maybe I can live a little while longer before I meet Feli in death…?

No, that's preposterous. I love him and he loves me and is waiting for me. This new apartment ordeal will only last a few months or weeks before I finally just end it all.

I hear the front door being unlocked and then open and close before someone walks into the kitchen and sets down another few boxes in there. I can hear their tired breaths from all the heavy lifting and going up the elevator over and over again.

Cautiously, I walk through the hallway and see the girl sitting on the couch, curled up and already fallen asleep. She must have been exhausted to pass out that quickly. Feliciano used to do the same since he was such a heavy sleeper and all he needed to fall asleep was a comfortable resting place.

I go over to the couch and sit in front of her to get a good look before she wakes up. Her long light brown hair is spread across her shoulders and curls almost perfectly. She has really long eyelashes too, almost like those models have in the mascara commercials I always see on TV. I don't even want to mention her lips because it'll only make me sad and remember Feliciano.

But a lot about her makes me remember him.

For the most part, she's pretty and my parents were right. I have a pretty roommate who is asleep on the couch that I could easily take advantage of, but… she looks helpless in her sleep—almost too helpless like she's already trusting me when we haven't met yet. I don't even know her name, to be honest.

I leave her be for the moment to go unpack some stuff in my room that I'll need for school. Some stuff, like photos of me and Feliciano, I hang up and put on display before anything else. Really, those are the most important things to me rather than some old comic books from the 90's.

I unpack for about an hour before I hear her outside my bedroom door and I can already tell she's watching me by how she's gone silent. I turn around and see big amber eyes staring at me curiously, and then a smile appears on her face.

"H-hi! My name is Daisy and it is so good to finally meet you! I've wanted to contact you to at least get to know you before I moved out here… but I was too nervous and shy, so I couldn't," she trails off while nervously playing with a lock of her hair. She looks down at her feet and I can see the blush forming in her cheeks, which means she must think that she embarrassed herself.

It's kind of cute.

My hand extends outward to her and I say with a fake smile, "It's nice to meet you too. I'm Lovino, but you probably know that, don't you?"

She lifts her head up and nods, taking my hand in hers and eagerly shaking it. Her fingers feel so slim and soft against my own rough hands.

They feel like an artist's skilled fingers, a particular one I once knew.

And then it clicks. Her name is Daisy and Feliciano's favorite flower is daisy and Goddammit, why am I crying in front of her? Why won't the tears stop?

"L-Lovi! Are you alright? Do you need something?" Daisy asks me as she clutches my sleeve.

"I need my dead brother not to be dead and for him to hold me and say he love me and that everything is going to be alright, but he's laying beneath a grave with daisies adorning his tombstone, and since your name is his favorite flower it reminds me of him, so I need you to go away and leave me alone forever because I hate you and how you make me feel all this pain," I want to say, but don't.

Instead I say, "I'm a little h-homesick is all. Don't worry about me, please." I pull away my arm from her grasp and try not to look at the hurt in her eyes because even those remind me of how Feliciano would look at me with the same hurt.

"Okay… uh… nice meeting you. I hope you feel better, Lovi," she says before leaving.

I finally have some peace to myself again, but my thoughts are scrambled and I want to go to bed.

God, if you're doing this to get back at me for wanting to kill myself, then fine, have it your way. You can't stop me from it anyways.

And when I die, I hope Daisy is the one to find my suicide note and dead body just like I saw Feliciano's dead body on the stretcher. Serves her right for making my heart cringe like this again.

But I guess I'm forgetting that I like to feel these painful memories of my brother that keep him alive in my mind.

…I still hate her and her name.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: This chapter took me a little longer because I have been horribly tired at night, which is the time I usually type these up on my phone when I actually have ideas to write. Thank you so much for the reviews so far, especially from Talon-Heartless who has given me amazing support throughout the few starter chapters. I hope the secret of the story becomes a little more obvious in this chapter, but if not, then it will definitely appear later for you readers—maybe even at the end of it.**

**Please enjoy!**

* * *

"Hey, Feli, are you in heaven right now?" I ask one night to myself, hoping that my brother will hear me. I don't receive the answer.

"If you're in heaven right now, does that mean you've become an angel? If I kill myself, will I become an angel as well, or will God send me to hell for committing suicide? Would I never be able to see you again lest I poison your soul with my demons?"

The silence continues and I stare at the ceiling and wonder if he's watching me.

"Where are you?"

That silence that I had grown accustomed to is broken when I hear footsteps coming from down the hall, so it must be Daisy who possibly heard me and woke up. She's bound to come here and see if I'm okay or talking in my sleep.

God, I wish I could sleep, but it's been difficult to adjust to the city lights at night. It has been a pain to try to at least keep my eyes closed for five straight minutes so I can let myself just _relax_. I think it's the new environment I'm in that keeps it this way, so maybe that means if I tell my parents, they allow me to move back in and—

"Are you awake?" I hear a quiet whisper after my door opens. Those bright orbs look around the room before meeting my own two green ones. Daisy smiles at me and quietly asks if there's anything wrong because she swore she heard voices coming from here.

Then she blushes and says she's sorry if she intruded on my privacy, which means she must think I might have been masturbating and that's why I was talking to myself.

I don't know why, but this makes me chuckle as I sit up and face her.

"No, you didn't walk in on anything, so don't worry. I haven't been able to sleep well so I was thinking aloud. I'm sorry for waking you up."

"Oh! No, trust me, that didn't wake me up at all. I was sort of already awake when I heard your voice because I can't sleep. It's so hard to fall asleep here with the city lights bursting through the window," she explains. "I can't sleep that well here. To be completely honest, I'm homesick."

Then she lets out a pout that is way too adorable to not be worth a hug or two.

_No, stop, stop fucking up, mind. You don't want to hug her. She's the one that makes you hurt, remember?_

_You hate her, don't forget that._

"I'm actually having the same problem right now. The city is hard to adjust to, but at least it's quiet for once," I say.

"It's nice… but I miss seeing the beautiful white clouds that become perfect shades of pink and yellow that make my heart warm up. Out here you can't see the stars in the sky because of all the artificial light, and I miss it. The night sky is so pretty sometimes."

This time she comes to sit on the edge of my bed to make herself more comfortable, even sitting at the end with her legs crisscrossed like she's some kid in kindergarten that is doing the story time ritual with me.

This girl acts a lot like a kid for her age.

"Is that why your degree is going to be in art?" I ask as though I'm actually curious, but who knows. Maybe I am interested in what she has to say.

"Yeah. That's why I want to do my degree in the fine arts or something along those lines and make people realize… or show them… what they're missing when they aimlessly walk around the world, not knowing what it's like to see a perfect night sky with all the stars shining down and smiling at them," she continues with a sad look on her face before she sighs and lets her hands return to her lap.

Then again… she acts a lot like a grown woman with the wisdom of Minerva—at least I think that's the goddess of wisdom for the Romans. My grandpa was the one to always tell me about the Roman gods, but most times it was only Feliciano paying attention to his ramblings. I barely remember a few of their names.

"Do you believe you can show people that?"

Daisy looks at me for a few minutes like she's processing the question through her head, almost as if she doesn't truly know the answer to it. But honestly, is there an answer to that?

"As long as I can show at least one person how beautiful the world can really be, then my work on Earth shall be fulfilled."

I blink at her reply. I was not expecting _that_ answer at all. I thought she was going to laugh and have doubt in herself, but she seems to have a pure belief that at least one person will be changed by her art.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry. I just started going on and on about it when I only meant to come by and check if everything was alright. I'm so sorry, Lovino. I'll go back to bed now. Goodnight," she says in a hush voice as she heads out of the room and waves goodnight to me.

"Goodnight," I murmur back, though she probably can't hear me by now.

For the rest of the night, I somehow sleep in peace.

* * *

Feliciano hasn't been visiting me as often, and I can guess that he's scared to be in a new place with this stranger.

But nowadays he only ever comes out when she's not around, and for the most part I try to avoid her because everything I see in her is Feliciano, such as her name and the way she smiles at me when I walk by in the hallway or how she draws for hours on end like he used to.

I hate her for all those reasons because it's almost like she's trying to replace my brother, but I don't need a replacement. I don't need her and her charming voice or bright eyes or sweet aura that makes me want to hug her tightly to feel all her warmth and softness like I once did with Feliciano's. I don't need her at all.

But… I'll admit that it's nice to talk to her on the way to school and hear someone else's voice besides my own and a dead person's. She says I'm a good listener, but in reality my mind wanders off after she starts talking about how the people in her art class at the college are all so very nice and she's already made new friends and cute boys have asked for her number, but she doesn't want to go out with them because she thinks they only like her for this and that and not the right reasons and God, it's too much to listen to.

Feli used to ramble off like that for hours, which again was why I was the one who usually listened and nodded whenever he asked me a question while also avoiding asking him questions. It is people like that that need to calm themselves down and breathe instead of regurgitate every tiny aspect that they could possibly think of that relates to their main topic.

Still, it's one of those things about her that I hate and admire at the same time.

"Hey, Lovi, will you help me with this art project I'm working on? The prompt is to draw someone dear to you and, ah… if it's not too much to ask, will you be my model for it?" Daisy asks me one day as I sit on the couch and play video games on my laptop. Thankfully the laptop is facing away from her and I have my glasses on, so it looks like I'm studying or typing up for one of my college classes when in reality I'm completely geeking out over this game.

"You want me to be your model? Why?" I ask in return.

Before she could ever reply, I feel my heart breaking and tearing itself apart into pieces because I was supposed to be Feliciano's model some day for one of his art classes and Goddammit, I'm not going to cry this time. But tears are forming at the edges of my eyes and I am so glad that I made the decision to wear my glasses today, because if Daisy saw it, I would never be able to hide the fact that I'm crying over my dead, beloved brother who never got the chance to do that drawing of me like he wanted to because I was too blind to see the oncoming truck that killed him.

I feel like I'm going blind again now that the tears won't stop forming and are threatening to spill from my eyes, but her answer stops me suddenly.

"You have such pretty green eyes that would look perfect on canvas," she admits, giving me a shy smile as her cheeks glow pink.

Something happened right there that I can't explain. It's like she's pulling me right back to the night Feliciano died and replaying it for me to watch over and over again like a broken record.

What grabs me is the words she says—almost the exact same words Feliciano said ten minutes before he died—and it makes me wonder what's going on and if there's a prank being pulled on me, like the last year was some big joke and Feliciano is actually alive and that's why I can feel his heartbeat against mine at night and still feel him and hug him.

No, God, please stop making the rush of memories come back. I don't want them to come back right now. I don't want to start crying again and fall into that cycle of regression once the memory of his death returns. If that happens, then I'll go right back to the start of all the pain and torture that I've wanted to feel for the past year. Please make the memories stop.

I don't want the pain.

Yet I do want that pain.

I don't want to let her see my pain and my wounded heart.

Yet I can't push her away.

_If you can, God or whoever is listening to me right now, please make it all just stop.__  
_  
There are two arms around me now and my face is wet from all the tears shed—I guess I haven't even realized that I had actually started bawling again. I must look like a giant crybaby in front of this girl, but I can't help it.

She reminds me so much of Feliciano.

"You're handsome, you know that? Beautiful like an angel who fell from heaven," she whispers as her hand strokes through my hair soothingly. Then she giggles to herself as if she made some sort of joke that I would never be able to understand.

Again, she repeated what Feliciano had said flawlessly, but this time I know she and I won't get in a fight over this, no matter how much I may hate her for making me cry.

When she says it I don't feel the flustered feeling that made me want to cover the red on my cheeks. She doesn't make my heart pound out of my chest like Feliciano was so easily able to do. I don't retaliate or falter when she compliments me, though I'm not sure if she really means it or if she's just trying to get me to stop crying and pose for her damn picture.

"Please don't cry, Lovi."

No, leave me alone. Go away.

Don't call me that. You're not allowed to call me that unless your name is Feliciano Vargas. Don't use the name he had for me. Don't wrench my heart open and try to look into it; you won't find anything in there.

Don't try to patch up the wounds in my heart because I'll just end up ripping them off anyway.

Don't be nice to me and offer kindness when I'm only going to push you away.

Even though I don't want you to leave me alone again.

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry for crying like that, Fe—I-I mean Daisy," I hear myself say, but I can't actually feel myself saying it.

It's as though my mind has been taken out of my body to watch the scene before myself in utter bewilderment as I apologize for something that is entirely her fault.

She kisses the top of my head and says she's glad I feel better now, and it's weird but I really do feel much better now. I… secretly crave the warmth she offers me that is so unlike what Feli's ghost gives me. I crave it, but I don't want it because it only makes me sad that I can't keep that warmth forever.

I've come to realize that many things don't last forever. But maybe…

"Next time you feel like breaking down, come get me, okay? I'll always be there for you. After all, I'm right here and I'm not leaving you anytime soon." It's like she can read my mind with how she's right on the spot to say something that I need to hear. Her amber eyes gleam at me with determination that tells me she really isn't going to leave me alone in the cold. They tell me that she'll be a good friend in the long run and that I can trust her.

I want to, yet I can't figure out if I should.

_Should I?__And what do I want from her?_

My eyes are no longer blurry and filled with tears now and my face doesn't feel wet at all, which must mean that the tears have gone and the sun is shining again. Happy happy joy joy.

"When you mean you're not leaving me, what exactly are you implying?" I ask her, an eyebrow cocked suspiciously as I stare into those eyes like I'm an expert at figuring out when someone is lying. Maybe if I stare long enough her eyes will shift and tell me the truth of her intentions.

But they don't. Those gorgeous—_oh dear God, what am I saying now?—_orbs of light are transferring some of their admirable strength to me. It feels warm again and everything is softer now, almost as though this apartment we share has shifted to become a providence of some sort.

"It means I won't leave you to cry alone in the dark." And then her hand goes to my cheek to tuck behind a rift of hair that was blocking my vision.

I don't know what she's planning to do now that she has a minute amount of my trust. I just pray to God that she doesn't break it.

My eyes begin to close after I rest my head down on her shoulder and soon enough I drift off into the first time in months I have slept without a single nightmare. She must be a dream catcher of some sorts to be able to do that.

When I wake up I'm still on the couch in the living room, but am now on my back with something heavy atop of me. Well, it's not that heavy, but enough to be noticeable—then again, anything lying on top of a person would be noticeable.

Then I realize that heavy thing is actually Daisy sleeping against my side, knocked out cold as if all that emotional trauma I put her through seemed to have weighed her down and sent her right off to dreamland.

Her fingers curl into my shirt when I try to pull myself out from beneath her and just that sleepy gesture makes me smile.

Wait, Goddammit, I shouldn't be smiling. Stop making me smile.

No, I can't help it. She's adorable and one of those people that you just want to hug when they cry because you never want them to feel sad.

I pick her up and have her head rest down on my shoulder like I'm carrying her like a baby that needs to go down for a nap. Maybe she is a baby and for this moment, I can take care of her instead of have her take care of me.

And there I go again trying to be the big brother and let myself go for a little while. No, I have to stop this. I have to stop being like this.

But I can't. I literally can't leave her like this. It's like I'm five again and I'm being that great big brother to Feliciano. It's instinct; I can't _not_be a big brother after so much time without a little brother to take care of.

She'll be my little sister—my little sister for just one night.

It makes me realize how much I missed being a big brother. For the past year I've been so caught up in my own self-pity and loss of my lover that I forgot what it was like to be a big brother to him as well. I forgot to be that big brother to him as a role model and his aspiration during all that time when I fought with him over silly little things and words that have no meaning.

I love him—I really, really love him with all my heart and soul—but though I was a terrible lover to him, I was an even worse brother.

So for one night, I might be able to redeem myself.

I continue through the hallway to her room and lay her down on her bed and tuck her in under the covers so she's kept nice and warm as she sleeps. Daisy was clinging to me like a baby clings to its mother when I was putting her down, but I managed to get her hands off of me. It's kind of weird to think that earlier I had been sobbing over what she reminded me and now I'm the one to be taking care of her a little.

This is a once in a lifetime thing, I swear. After this I won't do it anymore and we'll go back to being two roommates and maybe friends. I don't know.

After I head for the door, she begins mumbling something inaudible, but I go back to her side anyway and see if there's anything wrong. She immediately quiets again and it's hard to tell, but I think I might see a slight smile on her lips.

Since she gave me a kiss on the head earlier… I decide to return the favor and kiss her forehead goodnight before I leave.

I don't hear a peep from her after that.

The silence welcomes me yet again.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thank you again for all the reviews! To those that want some explanation as to who Daisy is and "why is this an Itacest fanfiction when Feliciano is dead," I'm terribly sorry, but that probably won't be revealed for awhile. Still, I hope you all enjoy the process and plot so far.**

* * *

I've somehow fallen asleep peacefully and can see that my mind has allowed me to dream.

In my dream, I sit at a picnic basket with Feliciano and we're happily enjoying a nice picnic at the base of an enormously tall tree that must be able to reach the heavens from the top branches. It provides us with shade as we merrily eat our meal together in solitude.

"Hey, Lovi," he says, grinning at me. "I bet you can't catch me!"

_What is he saying?_ It's too late to ask what he meant because he's already running away from me and our perfect sanctuary.

Now I'm chasing him through a field of daisies and screaming at him to please come back to me. I just want him to come back and return to reality.

"Feliciano!" I scream at the top of my lungs. "Feliciano, stop running!"

But he's laughing and not listening to me as he continues to hurry away from me. Thankfully I've always been a much faster runner than him—the reason why I have a gold medal in track and field from my high school years—so I'm able to catch up with him.

I turn him around just as a strong wind blows between us and once it settles, Daisy is standing before me in a beautiful white dress, her pink lips formed in a smile meant for me.

Her image jolts me awake and makes me wonder why I saw her.

The ceiling is dark for once and it seems that many lights outside have somehow faded away. I feel warmth resting beside me, so it must be that Feliciano has decided to bless me with one of his now rare visits. Since it is becoming rare for him to visit, I decide to keep him held in my arms and enjoy this moment for the time being.

Each individual hair on the top of his head brushes against my chin and it reminds me of how much I missed that softness, even if it was only an illusion meant to keep me sane. My fingers brush through his hair instinctively, but when I expect to feel the tips of his hair, it continues on and on for what feels like days.

Then I notice there are… two rather large bumps pressed against my chest and his hair has somehow grown down to the curve of his back that is suddenly much curvier than before. But maybe it's just me being tired and imagining things again, and after all I just woke up from a strange dream that could still have some dream after effects if that's even possible.

Feliciano moves again and I know now that this is definitely not Feliciano because those bumps are breasts and breasts pressed against my chest means either a) I got extremely drunk and somehow ended up bringing a girl home (yet I don't quite remember going out to do anything on a Thursday night) or b) Daisy has decided to invite herself into my room for the night for some strange, unknown reason.

Secretly, I'm hoping for the latter.

It turns out that I am not insanely drunk or hallucinating because my eyes are open and staring at her auburn colored hair that looks and feels so soft to the point I want to run my hands through it again and—

Goddammit, I'm getting off subject again. I need to wake Daisy up and ask her why in the hell did she trot into my bedroom and allow herself access to the comforts of my bed.

But then I see her sleeping face and can't do it. I can't wake her up, no, I can't do it. She's not bothering me, really, except for the breasts all pressed against me (that I'm actually starting to get used to and possibly not mind anymore.)

Her fingers curl into my nightshirt and I know there is no possible way I could kick her out of my room. She probably had a bad dream and thought, _'What can be better to find some comfort in none other than Lovino's room?'_

Yes, that is most likely what happened. After all, I am something of a big brother to her now, so I guess that also means sharing a bed when nightmares come along.

Feliciano and I weren't allowed to share a bed after we were eight or nine, I think, but he still came in my room anyways when he had nightmares. He did the same thing as he usually does when he appears behind me in the middle of the night; his arms wrap around my frame and he hugs me tight like I'm some giant teddy bear that he can use at his disposal.

Only he never disposed me the way I might have disposed of him a few times. But—no, I can't think of the bad memories right now, especially with Daisy cuddled up against me with her warmth. It's relaxing.

Before I know it, I've fallen asleep again and am having another dream in the same field as the previous.

I don't know why I was able to fall asleep so easily again due to the many nights I've not been able to even get a wink of sleep, and I try to pretend that it had nothing to do with Daisy giving me actual warmth that helped lull me to sleep.

_But why am I still thinking about her in my deep sleep anyway?_

Feliciano is attempting to climb the tree now and continuing to shout at me, "I bet you can't catch me, Lovi!"

He's right. I can't catch him. He's been far beyond my reach for over a year now and I can't catch him even now.

Suddenly our places are switched and I am the one climbing the tree now, running away from my brother who has been frozen in his spot since I began climbing. Then I realize that this is a timeline and he's not actually frozen, but stuck in time as I continue venturing farther away from that dreadful day.

I'm aging as I climb, too. My arms feel weaker the higher it is I get, yet I'm able to continue the journey so I may reach the heavens. I look down warily and see Feliciano sleeping in the grass, looking like an angel who has fallen from Heaven. I must be screaming for him somewhere in my mind, though my body has taken control and is urging me to keep going north.

It's becoming almost blinding now with the light piercing through my eye and even past my eyelids when I close them. The light calls for me as I yearn for its warmth, and at the end of my old age, it welcomes me with comforting arms and there in Heaven I see Daisy with gorgeous angel wings and I run straight for her.

Wisps of her image are left behind when I try to hold her and the clouds beneath my feet no longer support my weight, so I begin falling and then return to reality once my eyes snap open once more.

It's morning now as I wake up and Daisy still sleeps beside me. Oh, does she look peaceful in her deep sleep with those lips that are curled into a small smile and her long, thick eyelashes that would bat at me in the most adorable way if I were to wake her up right now, though I'm not planning to because I can't disturb this sleeping angel.

I don't know what I'm thinking anymore and I can't stop these racing thoughts, but this is driving me crazy.

My hand reaches out for her cheek and cups it, in which she instantly leans into my touch and mumbles something about her dreams. Even my body has lost control as it succumbs to that hidden longing I had to touch her.

I mean, it's difficult to keep my hands off her without having to remind myself every two seconds that I definitely am not feeling anything more than some type of brotherly love for a younger sister, so I shouldn't even be touching her in the first place or even be thinking about touching her, but oh, does it make my heart ache.

Her eyes begin to open a little and it seems the complete shock of it makes me lay still like I'm suddenly a sculpture instead of a man.

Funny, I would never have thought of myself as an actual man until now in this certain situation since I kind of have a girl lying right next to me on bed. But it feels good to think of myself that way like I've… grown a little.

Now back to the physical world: Daisy has opened her eyes now and is trying to adjust to the light by blinking a lot, which in turn is making her eyelashes bat at me (just as I thought they would.) My hand stays on her cheek and doesn't move one inch or centimeter or millimeter or anything at all because I literally can't move.

It's as though my heart and body have stilled for the moment as she awakens. I bet she's going to tell me why she's in my bed too and all about the nightmare she had and how sleepy and tired I must like right now, because now she usually tells me how I look ever since she told me I looked handsome that one day, about a week or two ago.

Once her eyes are focused, she looks at me with those big auburn eyes and smiles. "_Buongiorno, principe,"_ she says before giving me a kiss flat on the mouth that keeps me frozen like a statue. Not that it's a bad kiss, but the thing is that she_. Is. Kissing. Me!_

And another funny thing is that after our grandfather told us a few more Italian words as he always did; and our lesson for that particular day was the royal titles; he wouldn't stop calling me _principe_ for weeks. Because of that term, I got so annoyed with that I started calling him _principessa_, though he didn't seem to mind and was even happy with the title I had given him. He was an odd one sometimes, to say the least.

Again, back to reality. Daisy pulls away from my lips and cuddles against my neck, her breath right there, brushing against my collarbone so casually like we're lovers or something of the sort. And we're definitely not lovers at all, I'm sure of that.

"I had another dream about you, principe," she continues on quietly, clutching to my nightshirt again. "You seemed so far away from my reach, but now God has allowed me to wake up from one dream to enter another where you're right here in my arms. I'm so thankful."

Her head rests against my chest as she cuddles me and twines our legs together to bring me closer to her body. It's obvious that she's trying to spoon me and also obvious that I'm allowing her to do so since it is excruciatingly difficult to even utter a single world without my body telling me to stop.

"Principe, you're so warm this time. You're like a teddy bear. I miss holding you like this. I miss your love and warmth so much. I wonder if your lips…" she trails off.

Daisy leans in towards me again and I feel my body almost try to do the same, but my mind forces it to stay still as her lips press against mine once more. Those lips are just as soft as they seem, except they are one thousand times better than I could have ever possibly imagined.

_What am I even doing? I'm not supposed to be kissing her when I'm still in love with someone else that reminds me of her so much and—_

No, she reminds me of him, not the other way around. He's the most important person in my life. He's the one whose kisses I yearn for and need.

But I don't seem to have the strength to push her from me.

She moves away and I can see her new expression now. It looks like she's about to sob with how her lips quivering while her fingers tighten around the fabric of my shirt.

"I shouldn't be crying over this, but I'm so happy to see you in my dreams again. I'm so happy to have you in my arms. I wonder if the real you even remembers what it's like to hold me. And… if the real you is still in love with me…"

There are tears beginning to form along the edges of her amber orbs, too, and it makes my heart clench. I don't even know why she's crying and it probably has nothing to do with me, but I want to make her sadness go away so she can smile at me again. It makes me sad to know that smile is meant for someone else.

"I—I wish I could tell you everything, but I can't! I want to let you know how much I love you and miss you but you're so far away from me, even in my dreams, and I—"

I remove my hand from her cheek once my mind has taken control of my body again and murmur a quiet, "Daisy…?"

It seems that calling her name has woken her from her dream state because there are no more tears seen. She blinks at me and doesn't pull away, most likely not noticing the closeness between our bodies. (Subconsciously, there is no possible way I am not memorizing every dip and curve of her body that's pressed against me.)

"I-I'm so sorry, Lovi, I had a nightmare last night and came in here because of it, s-so the nightmares would go away and they did," she chokes out, her eyes going down so she doesn't have to face me now. Her cheeks are burning red now and I've probably embarrassed her, which must be the reason she won't look at me. It gives me a little satisfaction to know that and even more to see her adorably red cheeks.

It's just as I thought. I knew she must have had nightmares, so the dashing and courageous Lovino has come to her rescue. I can even see myself with a superhero outfit and cape right now as I hold the damsel in distress, Daisy, saving her from monsters of all sorts as she clings to me like she did in her sleep.

But there are other things that need to be addressed, such as:

"And you also kissed—"

"I thought you were someone else."

And then my heart practically shatters. It would be an understatement to say that it is still intact. I shouldn't have let her break past those walls I had built over the past year. No, I'll never let her in again. I've learned my lesson.

"I—I mean I was sleepwalking a little and thought you were my lover, so I kissed you," she explains to me.

"You… have a lover?" I ask out of curiosity.

"I do. I lost him once and found him again, wh-which is why I said I was having those nightmares a-about losing him. Lovi, please don't take this the wrong way—"

"I understand. Please go back to your room."

"But you're misunderstanding—!"

"What is there to misunderstand?! You thought I was someone else and that's the end of that!" I scream, voice edging with anger and irritation. No, she's the one who is misunderstanding. She never even told me about this lover she has and yet she still sneaks into my room at night to let me be the one who shields her from the nightmares?

There are tears in her eyes again and I regret yelling now, but I want her out of my room so I can give myself some time to be alone. Maybe if she leaves, Feliciano will appear and be able to give me some comfort.

"Okay," Daisy says quietly in her choked voice before she lets go of my shirt finally and shuffles out of my bed. The fabric of her own pajama shirt replaces the emptiness between her fingers when she walks away, and I feel sympathy for pushing her away so rudely, though I was very well justified.

I sit up and watch her go, but before she leaves, she spins around under the frame of the door and leans against it as her gaze focuses on me.

"Don't you have a lover?" she asks in a hush tone.

I'm taken aback for a few moments as I think over my answer. My lover is dead and gone, but I still love him if that counts. I dream about him constantly and he appears before me occasionally to somewhat replace the void and longing of wanting to see him again.

"Yes," I answer. "My lover called me principe, so I called them principessa."

Daisy smiles at my answer as though that likeness between us has brought us closer, but it's more so hurting me to think about it than it is giving me that connection with her.

"Mine did too." And then she bites her bottoms lip and turns back around, leaving the room for good now.

I already miss her terribly.


End file.
